Continued from Part One
After the little roan, Tyrone had charged at me (twice) I went inside to call my friend Maddi, who had been the one that did the initial work with my first brumby, Floyd.
A bit of a miracle worker, with lovely gentle methods – she really seemed to know her shit.
“Maddi, I’ve hit a snag with the two stallions. Are you coming this way anytime soon?”
I asked, trying not to sound as scared as I was feeling. It’s fair to say I was still carrying more than my fair share of adrenaline after the second fence leaping episode and was really wondering how the fuck I could have been so stupid.
Thankfully she rolled up the driveway the next afternoon and by then I had cooked up a plan.
“Would you consider taking on these boys as a project? I thought we could perhaps combine your horse management skills with my marketing to set up a brumby rehoming program? I can raise the money & awareness and you can do the hands on stuff? What do you think?” I said hoping that there would be the slightest flicker of interest.
“Um YESS! That would be so gooood!” she said, her eyes lighting up.
“I really, really, really love working with the brumbies…. I just cant figure out how to do it and also pay the bills. This could be perfect!”
So a few days later, the boys again headed off in a transport crate to begin their boot camp in Ballarat.
Within days Maddi had made enormous progress with Tyrone. He was interested, affectionate and had the halter on in the first week.
By the second he was leading, lunging and working in the round yard.
Meanwhile, Cauliflower was still reactive, unpredictable and very, very frightened.
In response, Maddi spent more time with him hoping that one day he’d ‘turn a corner’ as they so often do.
She worked with him about twice as often as she did with Tyrone and still that corner never came.
Some days he’d make really good progress and she’d call me saying “I had a breakthrough today” only for him to revert back to square one the following day.
And despite being the less chargey of the two at my place – things changed at Maddi’s.
(Edit: When I look back on this video, I’m honestly not sure why we persisted past this point)
And while Tyrone was soon, mouthed, backed and ridden down the road. Cauliflower was only mastering the one step forward, one step back jiiggedy jig.
So after 7 weeks of training where Tyrone had exceeded our wildest dreams and Cauliflower was continuing to cause concern – we decided to bring them back to my farm.
By this stage Cauliflower was somewhat halter trained. He would participate when the stars aligned but he was still pretty unpredictable.
They’d been kept in yards for months after their capture and we figured they would benefit from a few weeks in the paddock, without *hopefully* jumping the fences and making a new life for themselves in the State Forest next door.
So after a few days float training, Maddi brought them back for some R & R.
On arrival Tyrone disembarked like a total boss, while Cauli brought his A-Game in the bananas department and broke Maddi’s rib in the process.
And like the ever hopeful & slightly deluded souls we were – we kept saying ‘He might turn a corner one day’
Over the next few months, Anth and I continued working with him and experienced exactly the same rollercoaster Maddi did.
One day he’d be soft and responsive and engaged and the next I’d be waterskied around the paddock,fearing from my life.
It’s like even though he’d learned to lead and wear a halter, his reactivity and stress response had not diminished at all.
While all of this was unfolding, it’s not like I hadn’t been considering what Plan B would look like…it’s just that I was also hoping for a miracle and holding out for him to be gelded.
My first iteration of Plan B was a nice fuzzy feel-good one too…
I thought maybe I could send him off to a sanctuary which of course was a ‘sunshine and lollipops’ vision I created in my head where herds of horses live long peaceful lives, uninterrupted by humans.
But then the pesky responsible adult in my brain piped up and said
“You’re just making your problem someone else’s problem and that’s a pretty shitty thing to do. He can be aggressive and unpredictable – it’s not cool to put that on anyone else”
But of course it wasn’t just my problem, it was Cauliflower’s too.
Because I’d realised that even with nearly 5 months of ‘gentling’ he was still so wild I couldn’t actually care for him responsibly…
To my credit, I actually had managed to trim his front feet once but the next time I went to pick up his feet he had such an explosive reaction it nearly knocked me out.
I also got sweaty at the idea of him getting any vet work done. Mainly because I didn’t actually think it was fair to put a vet in a position where I knew there was a likelihood of them getting hurt.
And because when I start overthinking, I like to catastrophise…
There was the fear of an accidental escape… Whether it was a tree down on a fence or a gate left open and I knew there would be absolutely zero chance I could catch him ‘on the outside’, especially with the Cobaw State Forest over the fence.
And while we’re on the topic of the Cobaw being right next door, there was the small matter of bushfires…
I knew that I’d never be able to evacuate him… and he’d be left alone to burn in case of a fire. Which was a sticking point I really couldn’t deal with.
But even with all of this, I held on tightly to the idea that once he was gelded, he’d be easier to train and I’d be able to address these issues.
But fortuitousy (or not), the day my vet arrived to give them the snip he absolutely, positively refused to be caught. I’d left a lot of extra time, incase he was hard to catch but I couldn’t even get close to him that morning.
Not even close.
I’m not sure if it was difference in my intention that he noticed that morning but an hour later when my vet rolled in the driveway I said
“I can’t catch one of them”
“It’s the really tricky one… We can try and run him up into the yards but he’s pretty… um.. wild & unpredictable so I’m a bit worried that things could go pear shaped”
I said, forgetting to put enough effort into keeping my emotions in check, so the words came out wobbly and as a true reflection about how beaten down I was about this horse.
“Oh ok.. How long have you had this one?” she asked
“Four and a half months – same as the others – he’s just really, really hard” I said, figuring it really didn’t matter if I was honest about how I’d failed with this horse.
The vet took a pause before looking at me and saying
“I can give you the phone number of man that comes to your farm. You leave the horse in a yard and when you come back the horse is gone… And honestly, by the sounds of things there are a lot worse outcomes for him and for you than a quick, painless bullet to the head” she said with just the right combination of empathy and logic.
“The thing is Jemima, I like you and I really don’t want you to get hurt…. I can assure you that gelding will not change a thing from a behavioural perspective in a horse of his age”
“I’ve used this man a few times before and as far as euthanasia goes – it’s probably the best method. It’s something for you to think about”
So for the next 40 minutes as Tyrone lay spread eagled in the paddock, getting relieved of his testicles I had a fair bit going on upstairs.
The hardest thing to reconcile was that I was experiencing a fusion of emotions – ones that normally wouldn’t be seen together.
First there was relief.
Relief that the situation had been ‘seen’ by someone that really knew their shit… And relief that she’d shown me the way out…
It honestly felt like she’d handed me a ladder so I could extricate myself from this impossible situation, instead of going round and round in a whirlpool of delusion.
Second there was panic because I’d never done this before. I mean…I’ve held all my old dogs as they’ve drifted off for the final time- but I’d never pulled the cord for behavioural reasons.
And thirdly, and probably most unhelpfully was the feeling of second guessing myself.
Because the thing is, when your animal is dying from kidney failure or cancer it sucks- but you know it’s just ‘one of those things’ and not because you’ve done something wrong.
But when the decision is made to prematurely end a life for behavioural reasons, you can’t help but feel like you did something wrong… or didn’t do enough.
Probably the deciding factor was when I had a thought to myself “If you’re responsible enough to set up a rescue and rehoming program – then you’ve gotta be responsible enough to make the unpleasant decisions that go with it”
And with that I knew it was the right thing to do, so I picked up my phone & dialled the number of the knackery.
**** Please Note *****
Part 3 is called ‘The Deed’ and it gives a description of the process that took place next. There will not be any confronting photos but the words might be distressing to some readers.
If you would like to stop reading now, the short version is that the man did come. It was lightening fast and not traumatic for horse- he left this earth on a lovely sunny day and was spoilt rotten for the last few weeks.
Or if you’d like to- you can read part 3 here